Tell Him Goodbye
by Arashi no Baka
Summary: [Character Death] Didn't John give you the psycho analysis? He think's I'm looking for an excuse. About why Scott died.


_New fic. Yes. Already. XD. So here we are. Character Death. ANd stuff. So sue me. Written for Winchester Dream because she gave me the idea by showing me the plane!crash pic. So. Yes. And this is a two-parter, so rest assured there is a second part to come. I hope you enjoy this._

* * *

Gordon's fingers traced the plane slowly. His brother's face shone back at him from there and there and _there_ and nothing else seemed to matter. Not the cold cup of coffee in his hand - not something he usually drank, it was _Scott's_ drink - not the music playing softly in the background - a mix Scott had made for him - and not the knock on the door. 

A blonde head poked round the frame, and the cheerful smile faded when he stared at the scene before him. Gordon hugged his knee's tighter to his chest and cradled the mug in his hands. His feet shifted the pile of photo's and he couldn't see them properly but it didn't matter. He knew what they showed. 

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, a small smile forming on his sullen face. "S'funny. Never thought Scott was stupid enough to get killed." 

"He wasn't stupid." 

The reply was almost immediate and Gordon's brow furrowed. "No?" His words were choked, as if physically forcing them past his lips. "If that were true I wouldn't be staring at fucking _morgue_ photo's." 

John's glare was more then just a little angry and his fingers reached for the aforementioned photo's not caring that his grip bent them slightly. "Where did you get these?" He waved them angrily in Gordon's face, but the latter didn't even flinch. "_Where_?" 

Shrugging, the red-head stared down at the cold face and raised an eyebrow slowly. "I think he looks dead. Some people say stupid stuff like 'he looks like he's just sleeping' but Scott looks _dead_..." Gordon trailed off and his brother looked at the photo's in disgust. 

"Gordon. Where did you get the photo's?" His tone was such that it brooked no argument but Gordon just sniggered. 

"I stole 'em. From Dad's desk. You know how long he's been shut in there? I had to see for myself. See what had them all so worried. And you know what? There _was_ nothing wrong. Scott was just stupid. Reckless even. He _knew_ there was danger and he went in anyway and you know what happened?" Gordon slammed his mug down on the floor, angrily, coffee spilling over the side, onto the photo's but he carried on regardless. He grabbed one of the scene photo's and John's blue eyes widened at the sight of the crashed jet. 

"See this? _This_ is what happened! You know where he was when he did this? The fucking _base_." John didn't say anything. Just let Gordon speak. But he turned his head away from the photo, unable to look at the way his beloved brother had died. 

This made Gordon angrier, and he wrenched John's head back, _making_ him look. "_Look_ John! This is why nobody told us what really happened!" 

"No Gordon!" John snatched the photo's from Gordon's hands and pushed his brother back a step, climbing to his feet. "Stop looking for an _excuse_! Scott died. And you need to _accept_ that. These Photo's? They weren't shown to us for a reason! And that reason is the way your acting! I _won't_ believe that Scott died because he was a reckless idiot. That's _not_ who he is!" 

"Isn't he? Honest to god can you look me in the eye and tell me you don't even think that a _little_ bit!" 

John threw the photo's on the floor and left the room.

* * *

"You shouldn't be here you know." 

Gordon shrugged and continued to sort through the stuff he'd found in the attic. "Dad doesn't care. Doesn't do much of anything anymore." 

"That doesn't mean _we_ don't care." Gordon rolled his eyes as Virgil sat down opposite him, deliberatly not looking at what Gordon was doing. 

"You spoke to John." It was partly accusation and Virgil didn't know whether to be angry that Gordon was acting this way - or concerned. 

"He's worried about you." Gordon snorted at his brothers reply and held up a jacket from one of the boxes. He missed the pained look on his brothers face. "I gave this to him." Gordon's smirk looked out of place on the saddened expression. "He wore it all the time on the base. I've seen the photo's." 

Virgil frowned. "What are you trying to say Gordon?" 

He shrugged and let the jacket fall back into the boxes. "Didn't John give you the whole 'psycho analysis?' He grinned. "Think's I'm looking for some sort of excuse. About why Scott died." 

"And you think you'll find that _here_?" Virgil's voice was tight and Gordon knew it was because he had brought up Scott's death. His middle brother wasn't quite over that fact yet and it served only to make him angrier. 

"You know what? I'm looking through his stuff because noone wants to remember! Noone wants to know _why_! Aren't you the least bit curious to know why Scott died?" 

Virgil shook his head. "No, and you know why? Because I don't want to think about it!" 

"Well I _do_!" Gordon stood up angrily, sending some of the boxes flying. "I want to know why because Scott didn't _deserve_ this! He was supposed to get old and be just like dad, hounding me until the day _I_ die. He was _always_ supposed to be around!" 

"Gordon..." 

Virgil stood up, and tried to lay a hand on Gordon's arm, but the red-head shrugged it off. 

"Don't. Just _leave_ me alone! You deal with this by shutting it out. Let me deal with this _my_ way."

* * *

The room was a mess. He hadn't meant to. His anger had gotten the best of him and he knew he'd be in trouble later but what did anyone care? It's not like they came _in_ here anymore. 

"Gordon?" 

Oh. Except for him. 

"What do you want?" 

Alan stood in the doorway and surveyed the damage open-mouthed. He shut the door behind him and Gordon wanted to laugh at the scene he made. As if standing in front of it could actually _stop_ anyone if they wanted to come in. 

"Like it? He's not around to re-decorate so I thought I'd do it _for_ him." 

Alan crossed the room and dropped to the floor - crossing his legs. "What's happened to you Gordie? It's like your..." 

"Insane?" Gordon let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah. I had heard that." His fingers clutched Scott's discarded blankie and he snorted through his nose. "You know what I miss the most?" 

Alan shook his head and frowned at his brother's confused expression. 

"_Nothing_. I can't remember stuff he did. I can't remember anything. And that...does that mean I don't care?" 

Gordon sounded so lost that Alan struggled to find the right words. He imagined what Scott would say in this situation and then found that he couldn't. Because if Scott hadn't died they wouldn't even _be_ here. "No Gordon. I _know_ you care. I'm just...scared that your losing yourself in trying to find an explanation. Why are you looking for a reason?" 

Gordon was stunned. Noone had actually _asked_ him that. He'd just been shouted at and run away. "I - I don't _know_. When I first found out I was at _school_. They walked into the fucking room and told me my brother had _died_. On a routine mission that turned out to be a fucking flyby at the base. They _lied_ to me - to _us_. I told John that Scott was stupid. I told Virgil that Scott didn't deserve it." 

Gordon trailed off and Alan waited, knowing that his brother would continue when he needed to. 

"I stole the morgue photo's. And made them give me the photo's from the crash. When I looked at them...it was...I felt _empty_. When John saw them he was angry. Refused to _see_. And Dad...dad shut himself in his study and we've hardly seen him since. But me? I didn't feel anything." 

Alan touched Gordon's hand gently. "It's okay to feel that way, Gordie. It just means it hasn't really sunk in yet." 

"But it _has_. I know he's dead. I've seen the fucking evidence. You'd think I'd at least be able to _cry_. But I can't." Gordon sighed and looked at Alan silently for a few seconds. Eventually he motioned at the door. "I wanna...be by myself a second." 

Alan took the hint and climbed to his feet. "Gordon? You'll get through this somehow." 

Gordon wasn't so sure.

* * *

Jeff Tracy wondered how he could have missed the signs. John just stared in horror at his younger brother. When Jeff had found Scott's trashed room, he'd been furious and they had all known who it had been immediatly. But noone had been able to find Gordon. Alan was keeping his mouth firmly shut and no amount of persuading - not even from their father - had been able to convince them otherwise. It had been Virgil who had found him. 

The last place anyone expected him to be - but the first place they should have looked, considering what it held. 

Gordon was half-laid across the table, the bottle of Vodka had slipped from his fingers at somepoint, and crashed to the floor. He was still semi-concious and his father's papers had fallen with the bottle - and John could see blue-prints and the letter from the Air Base along with photo's. 

"Gordon." 

The word was like a whip and John found himself looking at the red-head again. Jeff had crossed the room and was standing by his son - unsure whether to be angry or concerned. Gordon saved him the choice by opening his mouth. "S'gross. Don't li' Vodka." 

John sighed and went to stand at his brothers left, but Jeff forestalled any action by holding up a hand. "Why did you drink it Gordon?" 

His voice still managed to make Gordon's mouth open dutifullym despite behing half-drunk. "S'funny. Thought it would make me feel something. Scott always said it numbed you. Guess he was right." His brother obviously wasn't that far gone, or his words wouldn't be so structured. John forced his attention back, when Gordon started speaking again. 

"I remembered something." Gordon sounded so happy at that thought that a look of pain crossed Jeff's features. John felt slightly guilty. He hadn't even bothered to _ask_ Gordon what he was feeling. Only thinking he could cope. Like Alan and Virgil had. Like _he_ had. 

"I told myself that it wasnt possible because I didnt _care_. But now I do...and I still can't...I dont..." Gordon choked on the words, tears blurring his vision and he even looked happy about _that_. Pretty soon the expression turned to one of pain and he curled in on himself, away from John and Jeff, burying his face in his arms. "Oh God..." 

The rest was an incoherent mess but they understood regardless.

* * *

John stared thoughtfully down at their younger brother. After crying himself into exhaustion, Jeff had carried him up here, and left John to keep an eye on him. His father had some arrangements to make regarding Scott's funeral and John's heart ached just tinking about it. Sighing softly, he turned his attention back to Gordon and touched the red hair. Unbrushed for the last few days, it was starting to matt and John hoped that Gordon would at least regain some of the control he had been lacking. 

But he wasn't holding out on that fact. 

"How is he?" 

John jumped slightly as Virgil came to stand beside him, Alan still in the doorway. "Sleeping. He drunk a little too much and cried himself out..." 

"Think that's a good thing?" 

Alan's question brought a shrug to John's shoulders and a sigh from Virgil's. The brunette approached Gordon's bed and stared down at him. "We were all concerned with how he _should_ be acting that none of us thought to check why he _wasn't_." 

Alan tilted his head. "I asked. But I didn't get as straight an answer as I'd like. And he _was_ right in some ways." 

Virgil and John both glared at him, but Alan held up his hands in mock surrender. "Not about Scott being stupid. Never abou that." He put as much conviction into that as he could. "About why it was hidden from us. I think he's right there. Something _had_ to have gone wrong." 

John looked pained. "It's not our place to question the decision that was made." He didn't look as sure as he would have liked and Alan shook his head. 

"And I respect that. But don't you think we have the _right_ to know what really went on with Scott?" 

Virgil closed his eyes, clenched his fists and then left the room. When Alan made to follow, John shook his head. "Don't. He needs time." Turning back to Gordon, his eyes hardened. "We all do."

* * *

"I'm not going." 

Food paused half way to mouth's and Jeff Tracy's voice was made of _steel_. "This is your brother's funeral." 

"You can't make me." The reply was as fast as a whip and as harsh as one. John winced and Alan made as if to speak. "Don't Alan. I know what you're going to say." He stared his father in the eyes and frowned, brow furrowed. "If I don't want to see them put _Scott_ in the ground, where we all know he would never like to be, then I don't have to." 

Virgil's hands clenched around his cutlery and his knuckles were so white they looked painful. "Gordon. Stop it." 

But Gordon couldn't. He shook his head vigorously. "No. You've all been telling me how to live through this and I want to do it _my_ way. I told you that. I am not going and that is fin-" 

"Don't you care?" The shout startled everyone and Virgil had stood up so fast, the chair skidded backwards, and cracked against the wall. "This isn't about _you_. It stopped being about you when-" 

Gordon's eyes flashed dangerously when Virgil cut himself off. "Stopped being about me when? When Scott crashed that plane?" He stood forward, leaning against the table so far he was almost nose to nose with his brother. "Scott was a stupid _bastard_." He continued before anyone could stop him, or remark on his cursing. "He was selfish and stupid and I _hate_ him! I _hate_ him!" With a sharp flick of his hands, he'd sent the plates and food on the table, tumbling to the floor. 

"I hate what he's doing even _now_. He knew it was dangerous. He knew what would happen! And he did it anyway! It's all his fault and I -" John grabbed his arms, but Gordon fought against him, tears running down his cheeks. "I don't understand why... I don't ... " He cut off, sobs wracking his body. The family were frozen the only people moving, John and Gordon as he struggled to subdue the red-head. "Let me _go_." When John made no move to give way, Gordon elbowed him, hard, in the stomach and fled the room. 

John clenched his stomach, tears blurring his vision as he stared after his brother. Alan turned on Jeff. "You should have told the truth right from the beginning." 

The Tracy Patriarch looked like he might say something, for a few seconds, before standing and leaving the room. 

"Dammit Scott. You screw up even from the grave." And Alan knows the words are wrong the second they're out of his mouth. AN he doesn't expect the smack to his face or the cry from Virgil's mouth. 

"_Don't you dare_." Virgil's eyes blaze with a fire Alan's only ever seen in _Gordon_. "Don't. Ever." 

"I hate you." The words come unbidden, and so _easy_ to Alan's lips. Before he can move, John has hands on his shoulders. 

"Don't Alan. Virgil. _Please_." And they see the pain and damn _hurt_ in John's eyes and apologise. It's immediate and the anger is gone so fast. 

"And Gordon?" 

John's eyes don't hold the answer to _that_ one. Alan hopes they figure something out soon. Scott's funeral is in three days, and he knows he has to get Gordon to attend. It's the only way he can get the red-head to let _go_. 

He just doesn't know how. 


End file.
